


The Bigger Picture

by thisisakinkaccount



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Belly Kink, Body Worship, Chubby Ron Weasley, Don't Like Don't Read, F/M, Fat Shaming, Size Difference, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:55:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25800949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisakinkaccount/pseuds/thisisakinkaccount
Summary: this is a wg kink fic, dont like dont read!witch weekly is being judgemental assholes, but ron has a plan.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 18
Kudos: 60
Collections: ENGORGIO  Harry Potter Pudge Love and Weight Gain Stories





	The Bigger Picture

_Granger-Weasley in the family way?_ , the headline of Witch Weekly blares for all to see while various pictures of Hermione smiles and waves, oblivious to the article's mockery. One photo in particular is cropped just to emphasize a burgeoning love handle under her shirt.

Hermione fumes, rooted to the spot. She half-hopes to set the display stand on fire by sheer force of will alone.

Those cows at Witch Weekly just have nothing better to write about, haven't they?

No words about her campaign to give werewolves the right to adopt children. No words about the new bill she's just passed that let magical beings to be treated at wizarding hospitals if they so wish. No words about the way she is slowly but surely making progress towards a more cordial relationship with the goblins, and just what it would mean for magical Britain.

Instead, all the article can muster is droll speculation on whether she's pregnant or not (she isn't), jabs at her physique and fake sympathy destined to the readers ("war heroines too have cellulite, don't worry!").

Rather than commit magical arson, Hermione opts to turn her nose up and walk away like a sensible person. It's her body, and she's perfectly fine with it. Beauty standards are fabrications of a patriarchal industry that makes a profit out of shaming women for their natural bodies, and she will not fall into that trap.

But even as she repeats this mantra to herself, she can't help but hear a little niggling voice at the back of her mind.

A voice that she had thought silenced ever since she and Ron have been having intercourse on the regular.

Who'd want a boring, ugly know-it-all? 

Now the fears and insecurities of the teenage Hermione are back, albeit slightly edited.

Who'd want a boring, flabby know-it-all?

And even though Hermione knows that she should love her body no matter what, that Ron loves her for who she is and not how she fills her clothes, she can't help the pangs of doubt in her heart.

  
Ron doesn't read Witch Weekly, but his mother does, and he works on Diagon Alley, which is full of gossip and naysayers; therefore, he has naturally worked himself into an angry storm on her behalf by the time he returns home.

"They're bitches with nothing better to write about," he says, and Hermione smiles. "They know you're an amazing and beautiful witch with an equally amazing husband" Ron wiggles his brows and she laughs, "and so they make up stuff about you gaining weight to feel better about themselves."

"Technically, they haven't" Hermione confesses. She weighed herself as soon as she got home. "I have put on fourteen pounds since our wedding" And that was eight months ago.

Ron is silent for a moment as he processes the information. "Well that's just happy relationship weight" he finally declares "All couples get some."

"You don't," she mumbles. Or, rather, his relationship weight has manifested in the form of strong muscles he developed from Auror training and stocking shelves at the shop with George. Hermione isn't complaining, but she'd be lying if she said she isn't a little bit jealous of her husband's ability to eat anything without gaining so much as an ounce.

"You're putting on happy relationship weight for the both of us then" Ron says, "and your sacrifice is duly noted" He walks up behind her and buries his face in her hair while his hands start roaming all over her, giving appreciative squeezes to the fleshier parts of her. "And wholeheartedly approved of, too" he pinches her butt and she swats him, but she laughs.

"I can tell" she says, and she mischievously sneaks her hand between them to give the prominent bulge in his pants a caress. Ron shudders with need behind her. "I suppose it's not that bad..."

"Not that bad" he scoffs, a bit breathlessly. "The sexiest witch in the world gets a bit sexier and she thinks it's just 'not that bad'"

"Gaining weight makes me sexier?" He's being ridiculous, but if he's trying to convince her to stuff her face until she weighs a thousand pounds, it just might be working.

"Happiness makes you sexier" he murmurs as he trails kisses down her neck. "And you were happy, before the Witch Weekly bitches had to make a big deal about your weight."

"Happiness makes me sexy, hmm..."

Ron doesn't respond, just squeezes the slight love handles under her blouse before tugging lightly at her panties.

"Want to make me even sexier?" she smiles wickedly as she spins around, delivering one of those scalding kisses that makes them both weak in the knees.

"Thought you'd never ask" he says, then he picks her up bridal-style to whisk her away to the bedroom.

They roll around in bed, switching places and taking turns pleasing the other. 

Hermione knows only touch then: the feel of Ron's hipbones as they grate against her; his strong chest, hard and firm whether he's hovering above her or writhing beneath her; even his tummy is flat and taut, not a hint of chub on it, while her own is always slightly rounded regardless of her weight. 

All of him is angles, sharp and firm in contrast with her curves, yet they still find a way to fit together, whether he's pushing into her or she's swallowing him whole.

That's something Witch Weekly doesn't know, but Hermione does, and it's more than enough.

  
Weeks go by. They go through well-practised motions between working, seeing the family, spending time together, going to bed and making love.

Ron tells her of George's plans for a new Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes location in America, and while Hermione is overjoyed at the look of pride on Ron's face, the announcement that he'll have to be gone a few weeks puts quite the damper on her mood.

"Are you sure I can't come with you? You rented a flat, right?"

Ron gives her a rueful smile. "I'm so sorry, luv. I wish you could come too but it's just not practical, you know? There could be emergency meetings at the Ministry..."

She sighs. "I know, I know. It's just... This is the first time we've been apart since our wedding."

He tenderly kisses her forehead. "I'll send you a Patronus every day."

"Maybe not every day, but once in a while, yes, so I know you're not having too much fun without me" she laughs.

"And speaking of Patronuses" Ron adds mischievously, "wanna help me make a good memory for it?"

Hermione only grins. Later that night, lonely in their marital bed, she has the memory of those sexy hipbones grating against her to bring her to a sated sleep.

  
Weeks go by. Hermione works, sees the family and goes to bed. She touches herself to the memory of her husband's caresses and the sound of his voice carried by his Patronus.

It's one more lonely night like this when the doorbell rings, right as she was starting to get into it. She swears quietly and casts a Cleaning Charm, then makes her way to the door and wrenches it open.

Her jaw drops.

"Hello, luv" Ron says.

Big is her first thought, followed by chubby, so plump and oh my goodness.

He's wearing a suit, the open jacket allowing for a perfect view of an abused white undershirt that strains and creases at the buttons as it struggles to contain the vast expanse of his belly. The trousers are buttoned, but Hermione would bet her wand that beneath the fold of fabric his fly is undone.

Ron's smile is so nervous and tentative, like he's apologizing for his mere presence, and Hermione can't help but stare at him, at his cherubic cheeks and his big belly and the bouquet of roses he's holding on to for dear life. 

She can't help but stare.

And want.

It hits her with such force, how much she wants.

She had never imagined that Ron could be anything other than slim. Long sinewy body, lanky limbs, hard muscles, strong jaw and sharp cheekbones. He had once self-deprecatingly referred to himself as a redheaded scarecrow. She had replied that he was a handsome redheaded scarecrow.

But now Hermione is in a completely different reality, one where the sharp cheekbones have become round and rosy, the strong jaw has gone soft, the lanky limbs are quite visibly padded and the long body now has a width to match.

And she wants it. All of it.

Hermione wants to squeeze Ron's love handles and pinch his cheeks, she wants to rest her head in the welcoming indent between his chubby breasts, she wants to climb on his belly and feel herself sink into him. She wants to drag him to the bedroom, rip this too-tight suit off him and watch the full extent of his body flourish on the matress. She wants him on his hands and knees, jiggling and bouncing and screaming as she pounds deep into him, and once he's all blissed and out of breath she'll rest atop him, slipping a chocolate or two into his needy mouth. (Who is she kidding? She'll feed him the whole box.)

Hermione realizes that Ron is still looking at her, only instead of trepidation and apprehension, those baby blue of his now look fearful. Desperate, maybe. She has shared enough years with Ron to know that this means he is beating himself up over something. Should she hazard a guess, she'd say it's because he's afraid she will hate his new physique.

Only one way to stop it.

With a hop and a skip, Hermione launches herself at her husband, who briefly stumbles backwards before he wraps his arms around her and kisses her back with relish.

He feels so familiar, yet so new; that same comforting warmth and smell she knows so well are paired with the novel feeling of a plush body in which she sinks into. On an impulse, she buries her face into his padded pecs. The soft flesh yields beneath her touch, as if hugging her. 

Hermione lets out an exhilarated giggle.

"Y-yeah... surprise?" His voice even sounds deeper, echoing inside his expanded chest. "I-I take it you're not mad?"

She looks up and beams at him. As if mirroring her, his own face brightens.

"I missed you so much," Hermione breathes.

"So did I," Ron says softly, kissing her forehead, "missed you like hell."

He lets her go, and they share a laugh over the poor bouquet they crushed between them. Ron is still red-faced and nervous, but he dutifully follows her to the living room, where he gingerly eases his bulk on the couch, clasping his hands into what's left of his lap.

Hermione's body hums with anticipation as she simply watches him: he spreads his legs wide to better accomodate his belly; his expression is eager as she offers him biscuits; the tension in his frame never really leaves him but takes a backseat as he regales her with tales of annoying procedures and funny happenings and wacky adventures in America. 

Eventually, Ron loses steam and starts fidgeting more, a tell-tale sign that he's getting nervous again, and Hermione smiles tenderly at his stalling. He takes a biscuit and picks at it so much he ends up breaking it into a cascade of crumbs as he tells her the story of a missing wand nobody could find until someone had the bright idea to look into the paper drawer.

Finally, after another pause and more tortured biscuits, Ron takes a deep breath.

"So, I-I guess you have questions?"

Hermione feels giddiness bubble inside her. "No, I don't."

Her husband looks quite astonished. "Really?" he blurts. "Not even about..." He looks down at himself with red ears, seems to come to a decision, and to Hermione's delight, he grabs a handful of his belly and gives it a little shake while the fabric of his shirt creaks in agony. "About this?"

His whole body ripples with the motion of his gut, love handles bouncing in unison, and all Hermione can think about is what those ripples will feel like on her skin when she rides that gloriously plump body into a blissful night.

"I'm curious," and it's not exactly a lie, "but I have a feeling you're going to explain whether I ask or not." She smiles, encouraging him to pursue.

"R-right." Ron laughs, still nervous. "So, erm, you remember how, some time ago, there was that article about you in Witch Weekly and crap?"

Hermione furrows her brows. She doesn't care to remember every headline, even the ones about her... oh!

Her heart starts thundering in her chest as her mouth goes dry. He didn't. He didn't! 

"The one that said I was getting fat?"

Ron's grin is both apologetic and triumphant. "Yeah, that one! Load of rubbish it was. And I thought, what's their deal anyway, harrassing you like that over something so small, and then I figured, maybe they wouldn't notice so much if there was a... bigger picture to focus on?" 

He wags his eyebrows with bravado Hermione can tell he doesn't feel, and she can't speak because she's overwhelmed by love for this beautiful mad man.

"And... yeah, there was that whole thing with America and I jumped on the occasion because it had to be a surprise, I had to leave thin and come home... f-fat." The simple word makes him blush to the roots of his hair.

"How did you manage it?" Hermione murmurs. Heat rises in her core as she imagines her husband glutting himself with sweets and fast-food for her sake, rubbing his distended belly and panting as he tries to fit in just one more bite, then another, and another... passing out on the couch with crumbs around his lips and empty pizza boxes strewn over the floor... eyeing his growing body with trepidation, yet also with pride, knowing he's doing this so his wife is never again harassed by the media... 

"You know me" Ron says jovially, giving his belly a hearty slap that makes it wobble mesmerizingly. "Good old Bottomless Pit there was happy to help, and I had some potions to speed things up. People said it was something like the coldman fifteen or whatever..."

"You gained much more than fifteen" and I hope you plan on gaining even more than that, she adds for herself.

Ron's blush is a deep crimson that makes her heart sing. "Y-yeah. Loads more actually."

With feline grace, Hermione leaps from her chair and into her husband's side. He feels like a plush, warm pillow and she briefly savours it, before she puts a hand to the crest of his belly. Ron's sole response is a small squeak of surprise.

"How much, exactly?" she purrs.

He gulps and breathes faster, which she can see directly as his belly goes up and down, her hand sinking and rising with it.

"I went with ten pounds, f-for each of yours" his head lolls back as Hermione moves onto his lap and kneads at his belly. Even through the fabric, she can feel its doughy texture. The pliant chub and supple skin roll under her fingers, its warmth inviting and welcoming.

"One hundred and forty" Hermione enunciates, and the enormity of that statement stuns her just a little. She's married to a madman who practically doubled his weight just so she would always look skinny next to him.

All that new flesh, all those ample curves, all of the new and improved Ron Weasley is for her and her only.

She fingers those pesky buttons that keep his body constricted. One stronger nudge and a button comes undone, its brethren tightening around Ron's middle further in response.

"Mione..." Ron moans, eyes soft with lust, but there's also a bit of worry in them.

"You've grown so big" Hermione whispers, undoing another button. "So, so big, so plump and round, all for me."

With every new restraint that goes away, Ron's belly seems to grow even bigger, like it's trying to get as much space as it can get before it has to be stuffed in an uncomfortable suit again. What a shame that would be, Hermione thinks as her husband's body fully blooms before her, ripe and huge and sexy and hers.

"You don't have to-" his plea turns into a gasp as she immediately goes to nibble at his fleshy neck.

"Everyone can see now" Hermione murmurs on his skin. She plays with his breasts with one hand, the other going to tease those juicy love handles that have been driving her mad. "Everyone can see just how much you love me, everything you're willing to do for me... everyone will look at you, and see you're mine..."

Ron gasps, moans, and bucks his hips, his love handles jiggling with the motion. Hermione quickly realizes what set him off and she builds up on it.

"You like that, don't you? Being mine? The bigger you get, the more I have of you... and you want me to have a lot of you, don't you, Ron?" She reaches down his vast belly, studying its surface and heft, relishing in the fact that it is hers, all hers, and so much more of her husband to love and play with.

"Y-yes... yes, Hermione, please..." 

"What was that?"

He's panting worse than ever, his eyes closed and his face flushed red, the way he gets when he's so aroused he hurts. 

"I want to!" He blurts, eyes snapping open to reveal pupils blown wider than she's ever seen them. "I was scared you'd think I was a selfish slob but I loved it so much, eating all that food and getting fat for you, and if you want me to keep doing it I will, I'll gain a thousand more pounds if you want me to-" 

And then Hermione just about rips the rest of his clothes off and pushes him flat on his back, pausing briefly to admire the wide dome of belly she's offered, its smooth surface sprinkled with freckles, Ron's throbbing member snugly pressing into it; one day, Hermione realizes wildly, Ron might be able to literally fuck himself. No, not might; he will, if she has anything to say about it.

"Such a good boy, a beautiful big boy" she praises as she massages one of his generous love handles, drawing yet more groans from him. "You're only going to get bigger and bigger for me, aren't you? Gorging on sweets and whatever you please; outgrowing all your clothes; becoming my perfect gorgeous glutton... doesn't that sound nice?"

Ron makes desperate little noises as she speaks, his wide hips jerking a bit as he does his best to remain still. She squeezes and kneads the silky underside of his belly while she languidly rubs her moist, engorged lips on the side of his cock. 

"It's all you want, isn't it" Hermione purrs as she teases his breasts and earns a moan in response. "You've always tried to be strong, to be a big tough guy, to be the man you think I deserve; but what you truly want is to be my needy, pampered little pet, don't you? To be coddled and cherished and spoiled, to be fattened up like a little prince..."

Ron lets out a sob as she speaks, and Hermione brings a hand up to caress his cherubic cheek.

"That's nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart. I want it as much as you do..." She kisses him, then leans down to whisper wickedly into his ear. "I want you on your hands and knees with a belly so huge it touches the ground, I want you to become so big I can sleep on top of you, I want to stuff you with so many sweets you'll beg for mercy. You won't have to do the work alone this time, Ron..."

He turns his face around and presses quick, almost desperate kisses into her palm, and Hermione can see that he shut his eyes tight in an attempt to block out tears.

"Oh, pet, it's okay, we're okay..." she shushes, voice tender and kind.

Hermione pushes herself up, and brings her burning cunt to the soft, malleable belly he's grown for her. She rubs herself against Ron as he pants and cries; she paints him with her slick, murmuring praise and sweet nothings in his reddened ears. 

Finally she can't take it anymore; her engorged lips are so wide open they feel like they're going to fall off, and Ron is bucking wildly beneath her as his erect cock slaps against his belly. Hermione lifts herself up, and with one expert wiggle of her hips, she swallows his member whole.

They rut and buck and writhe against each other, their hands flying everywhere and grabbing whatever they can get. She ends up lying on top of him as if he were a mattress, her breasts lavished with the attention of his expert tongue and lips, while she squeezes and bites and claws at his padded shoulders in the throes of ecstasy.

It takes her a minute to recover, and when she does Ron is blinking blearily up at her as he fights off sleep. She strokes his cheek, smiling so hard and it hurts, and gives him a peck on the lips.

"Good night, pet" she says tenderly, and Ron gives her a sleepy, beatific grin. Then his head lolls back and he's out like a light.

Hermione slides off him, and doesn't resist the impulsion to pat his belly. It's so soft and warm, it rises about a foot in the air, and it gurgles beneath her palm, begging for treats. She smiles.

Tomorrow will be very interesting indeed.

  
The following week-end, Hermione hears Ron's laughter come from the kitchen.

"What's so funny?" she asks, already smiling. She takes a moment to admire his enormous breakfast, from his pancake stack to the small mountain of sausages and scrambled eggs on his plate. He takes a huge bite of a buttered roll as he chuckles to himself before he looks up at her with glittering eyes.

"Check it out" he says and he brandishes a Witch Weekly.

The cover picture shows Ron at a florist as he buys a bouquet of roses. He's not completely used to his new bulk, almost knocking over a plant with his belly. Picture Ron moves and fidgets, a nervous smile on his face, which helps showcase his improved physique under every angle: plump love handles, massive ass and Hermione's favourite, his huge belly are all well-documented in a single picture.

And the headline is there too, printed big and bold on, blaring for all to see:

_War hero lets himself go_

**Author's Note:**

> if you liked it, please leave a kudo or comment! i plan to write more romione wg in the future <3


End file.
